


True to Form

by simplesetgo



Category: Legend of the Seeker
Genre: Control, F/F, dub-con, selfcest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-30
Updated: 2011-01-30
Packaged: 2017-10-18 01:08:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/183308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplesetgo/pseuds/simplesetgo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kahlan gets in touch with her...self. Takes place during 2x11, "Torn".</p>
            </blockquote>





	True to Form

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Consent issues (sex between Confessor and confessed)
> 
> Written for Porn Battle XI; prompts narcissism and please.

They’d left them alone together—Zeddicus needed time to research the proper spell from the Keep. The Mother Confessor’s initial annoyance at being locked in a room with this other Kahlan, this fawning and servile creature of her own creation, was quickly turning to academic curiosity. She stopped her pacing in the small area and looked at Kahlan, sitting quietly on the wooden bench where she was told, her hands in her lap and her eyes downcast. The Confessor leaned her shoulder against the cool stone wall, tilting her head. “Rise,” she said. “And step forward.”

The words had barely left her mouth when Kahlan stood, immediately looking to her for further instruction. When the Confessor didn’t provide any, her eyes went forward and she waited, hands at her sides, as quietly as she had been sitting.

The Confessor let her gaze travel up and down Kahlan’s form, finding it just as fascinatingly familiar as it had been when she circled her in disbelief in the council chamber. Her dark hair was spilling loosely down her back, unlike her own, and her eyes fell wantonly to the curve of her hips. The dark traveling dress hugged her body well, and as her eyes rose to the ample swell of Kahlan’s breasts and cleavage under the laces there, the Confessor pushed off from the wall and walked to her, slowly. “Give me your hands,” she said.

Kahlan smiled, quickly biting it back, and offered her hands to her Mistress.

She compared them leisurely, marveling at their matching freckles and skin, and then looked into Kahlan’s face. Blue eyes met her own, hesitant but openly adoring, and the Confessor raised a hand to stroke her cheek possessively. “We are pleasing to the eye,” she said. “Desirable. Are we not?”

Kahlan’s lashes fluttered at the touch and she sighed softly. “My Mistress is very pleasing,” she said. “In every way.”

“It’s a wonder,” the Confessor mused, “that the Seeker has been able to restrain himself, given the constant sight of us over the months.”

“Cara wants us as well,” Kahlan offered shyly. “But I don’t think she would ever admit it.”

The Confessor took a step back as if to appraise her again. “Prince Fyren was most inadequate in his attempts to please me. But as you know, we are most adept with self pleasure.” Kahlan blushed but nodded, biting her lip. “I think you have a better chance,” she continued. “Take off your clothes.”

The Confessor took a relaxed seat on the hard wooden bench and watched intently as Kahlan disrobed in front of her. Kahlan paused, glancing to her when she reached her corset and underthings, but the Confessor shook her head. “Naked,” she clarified.

Kahlan’s cheeks flamed but she obeyed the command without a moment’s hesitation, soon standing bare before her. The Confessor fixed her gaze on the small, dark patch over her sex—it was, of course, exactly like her own, sharp in contrast to her pale skin. Her own naked body was nothing she hadn’t seen before, but seeing it like this, in motion not her own, was something different. She was suddenly aware of the leanness her travels with Richard had lent her; her firm muscles under deceptive softness. The Confessor found herself feeling different parts of her own body anew as she gazed at Kahlan’s, pleased and enamored by what she saw. She gazed at Kahlan’s taut stomach, at her full chest and lithe arms, at her strong and slender legs, and then she felt her own hand pressed between her own thighs. It had been a long time since she had let herself think that she was beautiful, desirable, worthy of the lust of others—all Confessors were taught humility from childhood. But her palm pressed harder against the warmth it felt there, and she found no suitable reason to deny herself such thoughts. She was definitely worthy of lust if nothing else; the tinge of arousal brought by the sight of herself presented proof of such a fact.

The Confessor shifted to the edge of the bench, hiked the hem of her white dress to her waist as she parted her legs, and simply nodded at the floor in front of her. Kahlan dropped to her knees there, wide-eyed, and leaned in, apparently needing no further encouragement or command. She reverently pulled her underthings aside and touched her gently, drawing her fingertips over her sex. The Confessor’s lips soon curled. “That is not how we touch ourselves,” she admonished. “You know that.” Kahlan’s brow furrowed at her disappointment, and the Confessor interrupted her coming apology. “Use your mouth. You at least remember how often we’ve thought about that, how it must feel.”

Kahlan’s eyes flashed to hers, guiltily, before she deliberately dipped her head between the Confessor’s thighs, pausing to run her tongue over her lips. The Confessor found herself mimicking the motion as Kahlan placed her mouth on her center, then she leaned back and stared at her brunette head, her breath suddenly coming harder. Kahlan must have been fiercely determined not to disappoint her again, for she was working her tongue voraciously. She licked quick patterns, alternating between flicking her tongue against her and plunging it deep inside her, and the Confessor’s legs opened a little more as Kahlan’s arms encircled her thighs. It felt every bit like she’d imagined such an act should. It was exactly what she wanted.

“Keep going,” she instructed, forcing evenness into her voice, and Kahlan obeyed. Arousal brought a heated flush to her own chest and face as Kahlan worked, and soon she was gripping the bench’s edge. She was close; her fingers splayed over the back of Kahlan’s head, buried in her soft hair as she pressed her harder between her legs, and Kahlan understood. She took the Confessor’s sensitive nub into her mouth and suckled, noisily.

She came undone, hips jerking, grinding forcefully against her, and Kahlan mewled, helpfully rubbing her face against her sex. Her magic left her in a prickling rush, the pressure of it impacting the air around them. She had to hold Kahlan forcefully still by the side of the head as she came down; her blue eyes were bright and wide and her lower face wet with the Confessor’s come. “Did I please you, Mistress?” she asked softly, excitement obvious in her voice.

“Yes,” she answered breathlessly, staring openly as Kahlan experimentally licked at her lips over and over. Impulsively, she leaned forward, pulling Kahlan up, and ran her tongue up the skin beside Kahlan's mouth. The taste of herself brought forth a question she already knew the answer to. She would find out anyway. “You are aroused,” she observed, searching Kahlan’s eyes.

“Yes,” she replied, swallowing. “Bringing my Mistress pleasure—”

“Don’t apologize,” the Confessor interrupted, leaning back. “You will please me again. This time, your fingers will join your mouth, and you will touch yourself as well. You may climax as long it doesn’t interrupt my own.”

Kahlan nodded, lowering her eyes. “Thank you, Mistress,” she said submissively. The Confessor just opened her legs again, pointedly, and Kahlan bent down, one hand slipping between her own thighs. She paused as her other hand hovered near the Confessor’s center, still sensitive and wet from her last release.

“Mistress, how many?”

She felt her lips curl in amusement. “How many would you want?”

Closed eyes and a soft noise of contentment from Kahlan let the Confessor know she’d begun rubbing tight circles against her own sex, just as she herself had always done. She clenched her teeth in anticipation as Kahlan joined three fingers together and began pushing them in, and a moan unsuitable for a Confessor left her as she felt and watched them fill her, disappearing up to her knuckles. Kahlan didn’t forget her instruction, following with lips and tongue working above her fingers, right where she wanted. It was almost painful, but soon her second release was building even quicker than her first, soft pulses of pleasure strengthening with each thrust of Kahlan’s hand. She leaned to the side a little and saw Kahlan’s arm muscles flexing as she pleasured herself, and the sight kicked her that much closer to the edge.

The Confessor hissed suddenly, pushing forward off of the bench. Kahlan, caught off guard, fell onto her back on the floor, gasping in surprise. Her breasts, the perfect breasts they shared, shook with her quick breaths as the Confessor mounted her stomach, straddling her middle. She adjusted her dress around her thighs and quickly guided Kahlan’s hand back where it was. Flexing her back, she began to ride the rigid fingers Kahlan worked past her underthings, back inside her, and her palms quickly found their way to Kahlan’s chest, exploring and kneading her breasts in a way she never could her own. A squeeze to both of her taut nipples at once had Kahlan whimpering. She wanted to drink in that sound, taste it.

The Confessor leaned down, crushing their breasts together, grinding her hips against Kahlan’s hand, and captured her mouth in a hungry kiss. She urged Kahlan’s lips apart and tasted the tongue sliding against her own, but there was only heat and smooth wetness to be sensed. It was strange, nearly disorienting—she had only ever kissed Richard this way, and this was far different. But it was also arousing, because Kahlan was much better at this than he was. She knew exactly what they wanted, and the kiss deepened as Kahlan caressed her tongue with her own.

The Confessor straightened suddenly, slamming herself down on Kahlan’s fingers, and came, shuddering this time. She took a deep breath, rolling her hips a little. Kahlan looked up at her with the eyes she knew as her own, naked love in her expression, and when she curled fingers against her inner walls she came again, throwing her head back. Kahlan guided her through, and when the Confessor finally caught herself just short of collapsing over her, Kahlan made soft hushing noises and kissed her cheek. She pulled her fingers free, but when she moved them toward her own mouth the Confessor stopped her. “Don’t,” she panted. “Finish yourself—quickly, with your other hand.”

She stood then, shakily, taking a step back, and watched as Kahlan obediently plunged one hand between her legs, sinking fingers deep and fast into her waiting sex, and massaged her breast with the other. She reached her release mere heartbeats later with a soft cry, turning her head from side to side with eyes squeezed closed, her hair fanned out around her head. The Confessor stood stricken at the sheer eroticism she herself possessed.

Kahlan was still coming down, chest rising and falling heavily, when she knelt beside her. The Confessor tasted Kahlan first, drawing the hand straight from her thighs to her mouth, rolling her tongue around her fingers while Kahlan watched, and then she tasted herself on Kahlan’s other hand when she offered it. It was the same heavy scent and flavor, not that the Confessor expected differently. Everything about their bodies was exactly the same—even the taste of their very essence. She gazed down at Kahlan, spent and bare, and couldn’t believe she had wanted to send her away with Richard. “Dress yourself,” she ordered, stepping back and smoothing her own dress.

Kahlan gathered her things from the floor around her and rose, draping them across the bench to begin obeying her command. But the Confessor stepped to her and stopped her with a hand on her chest, between her breasts. “They’re going to end us,” she said. “To get… _her_. Back the way she was. Do you understand?”

Kahlan nodded sadly, raising a hand to cup the Confessor’s cheek. “I love you,” she whispered. “More than anything. I wish there was a way.” She dipped her head.

The Confessor’s hand left her chest to cup her cheek in turn, imitating her, and her thumb found its way to the small scar above the corner of her mouth—the one she’d had since childhood. Her brow furrowed as Kahlan looked up and they stood, mirror images of each other. The Confessor searched through possibilities as Kahlan searched her gaze, but her agile mind and logic failed her—they could take on a Wizard or a Mord-Sith, but not both. She knew there was no other path availed to them, and so she said the words every confessed longs to hear. “I would keep you,” she said slowly. “By my side, here. I would want you near me.”

It may have been pity and lust, not compassion and love, that drove her to say such a thing, but Kahlan smiled brightly all the same.


End file.
